


Artemis's Fantasy

by ChaoticCello



Category: Forgotten Realms
Genre: Cross-Posted on the FR Kinkmeme on Live Journal, Like more plot then porn, M/M, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rape/Non-con Elements, Surprisingly a lot of plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 08:16:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 12,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3602922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticCello/pseuds/ChaoticCello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cross-posted on the FR Kinkmeme on LiveJournal</p><p>Artemis entertaining a rape fantasy and Jarlaxle being more than happy to fill Artemis's request.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I want you to rape me."   
  
The words were sudden, unexpected and caused the normally composed and ever prepared Jarlaxle to sputter some sweet, elven wine that he had nicked from the tavern. He stared wide eyed at Artemis, whom was sitting on his bed across the room and staring at him stony faced and expressionless.   
  
"Can you repeat that? I do not believe I heard that correctly." The mercenary asked, setting the rest of his drink down before pulling a cloth napkin out of one of his dimensional pockets to wipe up any drink he had gotten on himself–- acting as if he had not just heard a very unexpected request from the assassin.   
  
"I. Want. You. To. Rape. Me." This time, Jarlaxle knew he had not misheard. The words were spoken slowly and too clearly to be mistaken as anything else. He just didn't know what to do with them.  
  
Eyes back on the assassin, Jarlaxle took off his hat and scratched his head. "I don't think it works like that." He was using his normal bantering tone, determined to at least show that Artemis had not put him off his game.   
  
Artemis's eyes narrowed and his fist clenched and Jarlaxle knew he made a mis-step. "That isn't-–"  
  
Quickly, Jarlaxle held out both hands in front of him and motioned for Artemis to stop. "I know!" He quickly interrupted, and then raised a brow. "You mean a fantasy, yes?"  
  
Now, the assassin looked uncomfortable. It was as if whatever courage that had prompted him to start this conversation left had left. It took him a long moment, but he finally nodded and averted his eyes.  
  
The mercenary found this development–well really the whole situation–intriguing. There was no way he was going to turn this down and not explore it further. "Okay." He said, smile on his face.  
  
Artemis's gaze was back on him. "Okay?" he echoed.  
  
Jarlaxle nodded, maintaining a pleasant demeanor. "Okay! I would love to live out your fantasies with you." He clapped his hands together. "I mean, I'm always telling you to enjoy life. What kind of friend would I be, if I could not oblige such a simple request?" He drummed his fingers on the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in. "Though I do have to ask, what exactly are we talking about here? Is this sneak up on you in an alley and take you from behind, overpower you in a fight and have my way with you, or more of a wine, dine and drug and fuck you out of your mind you sort of thing?"  
  
He spoke nonchalantly, as if he was asking what were the breakfast specials, rather then the topic a hand.  
  
The assassin's look of being overwhelmed and the shrug he gave in response though, let Jarlaxle know he would be in for–-at least–-a long night of figuring out what the Artemis even wants, before anything was going to happen.


	2. Chapter 2

It had been three days since Artemis had made his rather unexpected request known. Three days in which nothing happened…well nothing except frustration. Every time Jarlaxle attempted to gleam more details about the assassin’s fantasy and learn what he actually wanted, Artemis essentially shut down and only communicated in grunts, growls, thrown objects and shrugs. Mostly shrugs. It was as if Artemis himself did not really know exactly what he wanted---and left Jarlaxle only with the knowledge that the assassin had rape fantasy involving him.   
  
  
So, now they were walking down the road to the next town in utter silence and unable to look at each other. Mostly unable. Jarlaxle was sneaking peeks at Artemis whenever he thought the assassin would not notice—every now and again catching a troubled look on his friend’s face. It took two hours of silence and catching troubled looks to cause Jarlaxle to break. “You know we don’t have to do this,” He stated offhandly, trying to offer Artemis out. Just in case the assassin was hesitant to ask for it.  
  
  
Artemis whirled around and glared. “You realize I didn’t ask you spur of the moment, right? I have thought it through before. In fact, I have been considering it for almost a year. I don’t need an out. I know what I want.”   
  
Jarlaxle stopped in his tracks. “You know what you want!?” He echoed, annoyed and ignoring the first part of Artemis’s statement. He had known that assassin would have considered this for a long while before asking. It was just Artemis claiming to know what he wants---when he so clearly did not---that set Jarlaxle off. “Then tell me what you want instead of shrugging and making non-verbal noises!”  
  
Artemis’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to rape me.” He growled, exasperated.  
  
Jarlaxle wanted to punch him. “I know that! But how!?”   
  
“With your penis.”   
  
“I hate you.” The mercenary did not know what else to say and knew he wasn’t going to get anything else from Artemis when they were both so high strung. “Let’s make camp?” He offered, despite having hours of daylight left.  
  
Artemis nodded and within half an hour, they had it set up and were ignoring each other. Again. Jarlaxle had brought himself to reverie, while the assassin leaned against a tree writing something out on a piece of paper.  
  
Jarlaxle was awoken from the reverie a couple of hours with a foot nudging his side and Artemis’s paper being waved in his face.  
  
“Here. Stop asking me questions.” The assassin’s voice was gruff and he walked away as soon as Jarlaxle had grasped the paper, to sit in the shadows of a tree across camp and sharpen his blades.

  
Jarlaxle regarded the piece of paper with a grin. It was filled with Artemis’s neat handwriting and was separated into four neat columns: Requirements, Okay With, NO, and Maybe. He still had questions, but at least now he had something to work with.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two days since he gave Jarlaxle the list. And the elf had not said a single word about it. The talkative elf that _never_ shut up had not said a single word about a list full of sexual....things about him. No, instead Jarlaxle went about business as usual and was talking about new jobs they could take or quests they could undergo....and not about the list or his request.  
  
Artemis didn't know if this was a blessing or a curse.   
  
He didn't want to talk about the list or anything about his request––and it was a _request_ and not a fantasy––because he had enough problems coming to terms and rationalizing it in his head; to actually put his jumbled thoughts into words and explain them....he didn't think he could do it coherently. Not without exposing himself more than he would like.  
  
But the silence and the space Jarlaxle was giving him was nerve wrecking. The mercenary was always meddling; for Jarlaxle to NOT was more then enough to make the assassin paranoid.... and the knowing and amused _looks_ that Jarlaxle gave him every time he almost jumped out of his skin from the barest brush against the arm or the way he sprung around dagger ready at the tiniest of noise, let Artemis know that Jarlaxle was doing it on purpose.  
  
Artemis wasn't sure how much of it he could take...but it didn't look like it was going to stop today.  
  
Currently, at the drow's insistence they were in the middle of the woods standing outside the barrier of some secluded cabin to steal some object of great power from some hermit mage. Well barriers. His ability to sense magic barriers was not the best, but he had picked up a trick or two over the years and could sense that this place was protected and not worth the trouble.  
  
"Not happening." he said with the shake of the head and turning on his heel to go back the way they came.   
  
"I can get us through the barriers." Jarlaxle called and Artemis could feel the triumphant grin on the mercenary's face without even looking.  
  
Slowly, he turned around to face the drow. "Then go in yourself. I'm not going to fight the mage that set them."   
  
"He's not home."   
  
Artemis pinched his nose. "Do I even want to know how you know that?"  
  
Jarlaxle just grinned in response before grabbing him by the upper arm and pulling him right through the barriers and through the front door. In the process, Artemis flinched and tried to push Jarlaxle away and glowered as he simply got that damn _look_ in response.  
  
The second Jarlaxle released his arm and he pushed back his paranoia, Artemis had his weapons drawn and was on guard. Jarlaxle instead strode right in and sauntered to a safe sitting prominently across the room. It was open in seconds and the mercenary was staring expectantly at Artemis. "Put your weapons in the safe." He said, smiling pleasantly.  
  
Artemis raised a brow, sure he hadn't misheard and half convinced Jarlaxle had gone mad. "And why would I do that?"  
  
"You don't need them. This is my house."  
  
"Your house?"   
  
The mercenary smiled patiently in response.  
  
It took him a while before he figured out what was going on, but the second he did he was stepping backwards towards the door. It was all a set-up, a plot by Jarlaxle and he wasn't ready for it. Jarlaxle could _not_ just go from completely ignoring his request to springing it on him unexpectedly.   
  
"Artemis. Calm down. Not _now_. We still have to talk about this." Jarlaxle pulled out the list and waved it dramatically in the air. "I just don't want you end up stabbing me....I'll put mine away too."  
  
  
Artemis let out a shaky breath and nodded, slowly approaching the safe. It took him a long time to set Claw and his dagger in the safe. A feeling of heaviness washed over him. It was now so very real. He knew on some level that things were going to become real when he voiced his request, but not like _this._  
  
"Breath, Artemis." A voice said soothingly in his ear. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Then the drow's bracers that summoned daggers were in the safe, along with various other objects and it was slammed close.  
  
The resounding thud made his heart sink as he was slowly led to the garish purple couch in the middle of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Artemis sunk as far as he could into the awful purple cushions, whilst Jarlaxle plopped into the seat across him with a flourish and setting down the list on the table between them.   
  
“We have to talk about this.”   
  
He shot a glare at the drow. He did not want to talk about it.

  
Jarlaxle sighed. “You can not have created a sexual shopping list and expect to not talk about it at least a little! You have been jumpy for days because we _haven't_ talked about it! It is being addressed.”   
  
He shifted his gaze away. He knew that tone Jarlaxle used and he knew that this conversation could not be avoided. “Address what you must then…and it is just a list---not that stupid name you just gave it.”  
  
“Fine, just a list then.” Jarlaxle replied, rather agreeably.  
  
Artemis did his best not to fidget and instead focused on a tiny speck on the red carpet that clashed awfully with the purple couch and blue curtains. The mercenary giving him that concession so easily let him know that this conversation was going to be more uncomfortable than he initially expected and that Jarlaxle knew it.   
  
“We are going to start with the requirements column—seeing that is your shortest and simplest one, okay?”  
  
He turned his gaze back to Jarlaxle. “You are not going to read the whole thing aloud are you? I know what I wrote.” His tone was sharp, but he had spent over an hour writing and editing the damn thing, agonizing what he was really okay with and trying to figure what he could actually handle. There was no way he forgot a single word on that list.  
  
Jarlaxle let out a small laugh and shook his head. “No, no. We are just going to clarify some things and make sure the boundaries are _clear_. Now is it okay to start with requirements, or would you rather start somewhere else?”  
  
He shrugged. He would rather not start at all.  
  
“Artemis!” The tone was sharp and contrasted greatly with the softer tone the drow had been using previously.   
  
“What?” He demanded annoyed and confused about the drastic change in demeanor.  
  
“You are going to have to communicate here. With _words_. No more of this shrugging nonsense. I know you don’t want to talk. You have made it more than perfectly clear, but we can’t have any confusion the ground rules and boundaries.”  
  
Artemis closed his eyes. “Fine. Start with requirements then. Just try to keep your clarification to yes or no questions.” Yes or no answers he could handle.  
  
“I’ll try, but in return you got to try to be a little less closed off.”  
  
He opened his eyes and--biting back his anxiety--stared at Jarlaxle, trying to catch eye contact that he had been purposefully avoiding for days. “Better?”  
  
The drow smiled. “Much. Now to address requirements: You only have rape me with your penis, privacy, and safety listed. I’m assuming the first point is mostly snark because you were mad when you wrote this. As for privacy and safety: I’m sure you noticed all of the safety wards on this place and just to let you know there are additional ones you have not noticed and several anit-scrying charms. What I need to know is what your safe word is.”  
  
Artemis blinked. The tone Jarlaxle used was so professional, it almost had seemed like they were not discussing sex or his request at all. He didn’t know what to make of it. On one hand, the professionalism let him forget some of his discomfort. On the other, it was so jarring that he was thrown off and just didn’t know what to say.   
  
“You can pick any word you want. I just got to know it.” The drow’s patient voice broke him out of his silence.  
  
“Safety.” There was no reason to make it complicated or anything that could be forgotten in a panic.   
  
“Safety it is.” Jarlaxle replied, reassuring smile plastered across his face. “Now is there anything you wish to add or address about this section?"  
  
He shook his head no.  
  
“ _Artemis_ ”  
  
“No. I have nothing else I would like to add or address about this section.” He pinched his nose and somehow sunk even further into the couch. He was going to be in for a long night.


	5. Chapter 5

“Now don’t get too snarky over there.” Jarlaxle joked, keeping his tone light.  
  
He gave an appreciative smile at that, but Artemis made no move to respond to what he recognized as an attempt to banter. He knew the mercenary was initiating it in an attempt to make him more comfortable and perhaps restore a bit of their normal dynamic.   
  
He was already drained because the paranoid edge he had been sitting on for days, the realization of the actually reality of his request that he had faced with not even an hour ago, the battle to even get him sort of speaking about the list, and the discussion about the first and simplest column on his list. Bantering, while probably able to put him at ease just seemed like too much work.  
  
“You okay with doing the Okay With column next?” The mercenary’s tone was back to business-like and showed not the slightest hint of being bothered by the assassin’s refusal to banter.  
  
“Go ahead.” He sighed.  
  
“The main thing I really need clarified is which one of these scenarios you want to do. You have a lot of random things listed here and it just seems like you simply listed everything that you would be okay with”  
  
“I did. That is why it is called the okay with column.” His tone was deadpanned, revealing that he did not like where this conversation was heading and that he did not want to be pushed with this.  
  
“Okay. That is fine. I just need you tell me the parts in the column that you want the most.” The mercenary’s tone had abandoned its business like quality and became patient…and Artemis knew if he looked at Jarlaxle there would be a matching calm and reassuring expression on his face.   
  
The assassin didn’t see it though because he had already averted his gaze though and was staring at his carpet speck instead “Doesn’t matter.” He muttered.  
  
“Artemis.” The drow sighed and the assassin can hear some the patient tone breaking and exasperation leaking through. “Of course it matters.”  
  
He could only shrugged and instead begin playing with the hem of his sleeves. He was out of his depth.   
  
It had taken him a _very_ long time to come to terms with that he even had the desire to be in a rape fantasy scenario. It took him even longer to even accept the fact. He had told Jarlaxle previously that he had been considering it for almost a year. But what he hadn’t told Jarlaxle was that he what he really considering _requesting_ a scenario for almost a year. The rest had been in his mind for much, much longer.  
  
It was why it was so easy for him to just say the words _I want you to rape me_ without pause. He had long come to terms with that part.  
  
It was just the actual details that Jarlaxle was now demanding where it got complicated. The details were where is mind got muddled; where his desires raged war with guilt.   
  
Nasty and ugly guilt that kept him awake at night, while the fragmented memories his torment that was called a childhood flitted behind his eyes. Guilt that made it so wrong that he craved what he did. Guilt because it could be nothing except wrong that he desired what had been forced upon him as a child.   
  
But despite the guilt, he could not push away the promises of desire. He could not push away what he craved some twisted reason.  
  
So he was torn up inside and left unable to take control, unable to even decide and let alone admit the _exact details_ of what he wanted.   
  
Because if he thought about his fantasy beyond its barest bones, beyond the request _’I want you to rape me,’_ he would betraying that hurt and abused child that he was. To part of his mind, it would be the same as sending the hurt and abused child—sending himself—back to his tormenters for more.  
  
“Artemis. We have been over this alre—“  
  
“You aren’t getting any words from me on this one.” He interrupted, turning back towards Jarlaxle…and the look of conflicted, pleading desperation that he could feel on his face was enough to back off for at least a moment.  
  
“How about I go get you a glass of water?” The drow offered.  
  
He could only nod and slowly draw in on himself.


	6. Chapter 6

He took a sip of water without regarding it or the elf that gave it to him. Artemis only focused on the cool liquid and trying to clear his head.  
  
There was no way Jarlaxle was just going to let this go, but there was also no way he could answer the questioned being asking…and there was certainly no way he could trust Jarlaxle with the explanation on why he couldn’t just answer the damn question.  
  
He almost laughed. He trusted Jarlaxle enough to make this request to him. He trusted the drow enough to actually take him through the request safely. But he could not trust the mercenary with his conflicted, messed up, guilt-driven driven twisted thoughts and a bit of information---what is actually very important information considering what his request _was_ \---about his childhood.  
  
His stomach sank with dread. His request was probably going to be called off now. There was no way he could pass this off as normal nerves and being his difficult self…. And without a way for him to explain his refusal and reaction, he knew Jarlaxle would not let this continue any further.  
  
He tried not to shake in some emotion that he could not even identify as he slowly turned to look at the drow that was now sitting beside him. “You’re calling this off, now aren’t you?” His tone was dull and defeated. He did not want this to go that way, but it seemed it was inevitable at this point.  
  
Jarlaxle hummed noncommittally. He looked as he was considering a lot of factors before he finally replied “It depends.”   
  
He didn’t get his hopes up. “On what?”  
  
“What’s going on in your head, and if it is something we can work through.”  
  
Artemis set his half empty water glass on the table before closing his eyes and slouching forward; holding his head in his hand that were propped up on his knees. They could not---he would not work through what was in his head. So it was over. He managed to make his request after agonizing over it for so long… and it was just going to end now. Before anything ever even happened.  
  
“Artemis. Talk to me.” A hand was on his shoulder and he flinched at the suddenness before opening his eyes and gazing at Jarlaxle. The drow clearly looked worried. “You can’t shut down like you are.”  
  
“Okay.” He didn’t know what else to say or what to do.  
  
“You got to give me a little more than that.” The tone portrayed relief, despite the words. Because the okay meant that Artemis was not _completely_ shut down.  
  
“All of your décor clashes and purple is an awful color for a couch.”  
  
“You know that isn’t what I meant.”  
  
“The carpet does not match the drapes.”  
  
“ _Artemis_ ”  
  
  
“I’m talking.” It wasn’t about what the mercenary wanted, but insulting Jarlaxle’s sense of color was the only thing he could think of to stem off the shut down.  
  
“We are getting nowhere with what you are talking about though.” Jarlaxle sighed.  
  
He looked back at Jarlaxle. “I know…but I can’t….I..” He stopped, unable to find the correct words and closed his eyes again.  
  
Jarlaxle’s hand was on his shoulder again and this time he did not flinch. “We are least going to _try_ to work through whatever is going on in your head.”   
  
It could have been the tone of Jarlaxle’s words or the reassuring expression on his face, but when Artemis opened his eyes, he could not control or stop the next words that came out of his mouth. “My mother sold me to a pedophile, and my father and uncle raped and molested me as a child.”  
  
His voice was so calm that it took him a long moment to realize he had said the words, but the second he did he was across the room in a panic wide eyed and confused about what bid him to say the one thing he had not wanted to tell the drow.


	7. Chapter 7

That sentence he had not been expecting. Not at all. Jarlaxle took a deep breath and looked at the assassin that had _fled_ across the room and was now a frightened, panicked mess. Part of him wanted to yell at Artemis for not telling him before (and he suspected hadn't been planning on telling him at _all_ ), but one glance at the man showed his vulnerability; and Jarlaxle knew that it would not be appropriate.  He was going to have to tread very lightly.  
  
He stood up from his seat, frowning when Artemis took a step backwards—away from him. He had no idea how to calm the man down, let alone deal with the bombshell that had just been dropped on him.  
  
Carefully, he took a step backwards himself. Cornering the assassin would do no good. ”Do you want to talk about it?” He finally asked, careful to keep a quiet and non-threatening tone.  
  
Artemis didn’t reply instead took a further step backward, pressing himself up against the wall and hugging his arms to his own chest protectively.  
  
Jarlaxle held back a sighed. When he spoke again, his tone careful and what he hoped the assassin perceived as safe, “I’m not going to make you talk about it, if you don’t want to.”   
  
  
“You’re not going to…not...I don’t…” Artemis let out an odd and almost strangled like noise before taking in a shaky breath and clenching his eyes shut. “You’re not going to tell me that I’m sick for…wanting…” He trailed away.  
  
  
The mercenary couldn’t help his step forward when he figured out what Artemis was trying to ask. “No. I’m not going to.” Artemis’s eyes opened again and Jarlaxle took another tiny step forward. “I’m not going to.” He repeated softly.  
  
Then it was as if the assassin collapsed within himself. The worst of the panic fled his face and he just slumped to the floor. He leaned his head up against the wall and stared tiredly at Jarlaxle. “If you had just followed the list instead of asking me these questions, I would have been fine.”  
  
“You can still be fine.”   
  
“So you are you not backing out?” Artemis’s forlorn expression took one on of very hesitant hope.  
  
He smiled softly at the assassin. He could not squash that hope; and anyways he knew when he agreed to Artemis’s request that nothing about it was not going to be easy---and that they would have to work through _something_. He hadn’t expected the _something_ to be trauma from childhood sexual assaults, but he wasn’t going to turn the assassin away. Not just because the man had a past; especially when he knew that Artemis would have a least considered his past before asking.  
  
He sat down on the ground next to Artemis. “No. It certainly complicates things, but now that I _know,_ we can work around it and make sure that this stays safe and good for you.”   
  
“That’s all?” The voice was unsure. Like Artemis couldn’t believe all of this about him was being accepted so easily.   
  
“That’s all.” He reassured, grinning when Artemis blindly reached over and gave his leg a small squeeze in what could only describe as the vulnerable human attempting to display gratitude.


	8. Chapter 8

They were sitting in silence. Artemis had allowed the drow to lead him back to the couch again and had finished his abandoned glass of water from earlier without complaint.  
  
Jarlaxle was just sitting by the assassin’s side; waiting for him to speak and pick the direction of their conversation…or giving him space. He really did not know.  
  
His fingers drummed absently on the empty glass and he turned to the mercenary. “I need a drink.” He finally said.  
  
A look of protest crossed across Jarlaxle’s face and the drow shook his head. “Getting drunk right now is a terrible idea and is not going to help us work through this.”  
  
Artemis growled, frustrated. He should have expected that. However, it does not help the fact that he was vulnerable, exposed, uncomfortable, and had revealed something he had never wanted to tell his friend.   
  
His feelings must have been plastered on his face because, not a moment later, Jarlaxle was reaching into his hat and pulling out a bottle of whisky. An expensive bottle of whisky. The drow opened the bottle and took a sip himself before handing off the bottle to Artemis. “This is an awful idea.” The mercenary remarked with a laugh.  
  
Artemis scoffed before snatching the bottle out of Jarlaxle’s hand. “Seems like a great idea to me.” He wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter when he tipped the bottle back and a feeling of warmth began to settle in his stomach.  
  
The bottle quickly pried out of his grasp though and the drow was taking another drink for himself. “No, it is a cataclysmic idea. We are sowing the seeds of disaster.” Despite the words though, the bottle was quickly passed back to Artemis.  
  
“You’re being overdramatic.” He took another drink and passed the whisky back to Jarlaxle.  
  
“You aren’t dramatic enough.”  
  
Artemis then seized the bottle just as Jarlaxle was bringing the bottle to his lips and took a drink for himself. He wiped his lips and then laughed--- the sound was jarring to his ears. A half-genuine noise mixed with some sort of empty quality. He wasn’t overly bothered by it though because the pleasant buzz of whisky was taking over. “I tell you that I was raped as a child and that I currently _want you to rape me_ and you say I’m not dramatic enough!”   
  
Jarlaxle took the bottle back and took a very long drink before handing it back to Artemis. The bottle was now a little more than half empty. “The fantasy could be unrelated to your childhood. From what I gather, it is very common fantasy in women.”  
  
“If this your way of trying to convince me that I am not fucked up, it is not effective. Also not a women.” A bitter expression crossed his face after he took another drink and shoved it back into Jarlaxle’s waiting hands.  
  
  
The drow snorted. “I never said you weren’t fucked up.” He shook his head and smiled at the now glowering Artemis. He reached over with the hand not holding the liquor and patted the assassin’s shoulder. “It isn’t like you are _that_ messed up. I have seen worse.” He took a drink and handed the bottle over. “Also Artemis is a women’s name.”  
  
“If there wasn’t still perfectly good whisky in this bottle, it would already be smashed on your head.” He was actually still considering smashing the bottle on Jarlaxle’s head, but pushed the thoughts away and took another drink and this time not handing the bottle back.  
  
Jarlaxle sighed and grabbed the bottle anyway before pointedly setting it on the table. There wasn’t even a quarter of the bottle left. “I don’t mean it in bad way. And I’m glad that you trusted me enough to tell me what you did.”  
  
Artemis reached for the bottle, but Jarlaxle grabbed his arm before his reach could even get close. “Can we not do this?” He plead and yanked his arm away. 


	9. Chapter 9

Jarlaxle blinked. “You want to back out?” He asked. He had to be sure. The drow had drank less than the assassin, but it was still enough to start messing with his thinking.  
  
“No! This I trust err--I think you for—thank you for--- trusting me bullshit.” Artemis stumbled a bit on his words as he reached to the table again. Jarlaxle was so caught up in trying to comprehend what the assassin was attempting to get across he did not notice Artemis had the bottle back until the human finished his sip and handed it to him.  
  
“Not bullshit,” Was all Jarlaxle could offer.  
  
The bristly assassin softened a bit and nudged Jarlaxle with his arm. “I mostly trust you. I just don’t want to talk about it. “  
  
“Mostly?”   
  
Whatever softness that had overcame Artemis faded; and the assassin scoffed before he pointed at the bottle. “Just shut up and drink.”  
  
Jarlaxle did just that with a grin on his face. Mostly was close enough for the moment. After gulp of the whisky, he eyed the bottle. There was only enough for one drink left. Wordlessly, he handed the bottle to Artemis---figuring the assassin needed it more.  
  
Artemis smiled appreciatively and downed the last of the liquid before tossing the bottle haphazardly aside. “What now?” He asked.  
  
“Be drunk?” Jarlaxle suggested.  
  
“So no more questions?” Artemis looked relieved.  
  
“Well no. I still have some. Like what does breathing on my face in your no column even mean?”   
  
Artemis glared. “I was asking if you weren’t going to ask any more questions!” His voice was a growl and he made an uncoordinated swing at Jarlaxle  
  
The blow only hit his hat, but knocked it off his head. Jarlaxle blinked. Maybe he was drunker than he had originally thought. Normally, he would not have misinterpreted Artemis’s question, let alone allow the assassin get close to striking him with such a clumsy move. “Okay, I won’t ask anymore. Just tell me what that one really is?”  
  
“This.” Artemis snarled and then Jarlaxle was on his back. His eye patch slipped off and thrown aside by a rough brush of a calloused hand.   
  
Both of the drow’s red eyes stared up in a haze at the assassin looming over him. Strong legs were deliciously straddling his stomach and very soon, two shaky hands were holding down his shoulders. He didn’t fight the hold—thoroughly enjoying the situation—as the assassin leaned closer and closer to his face.  
  
By time Artemis was less than an inch away, Jarlaxle was holding his breath, body very nearly quivering in anticipation. When the assassin then blew a ragged breath across his face, the drow didn’t even care that it reeked of whisky or even question the oddity of something so simple being on Artemis’s no list.   
  
He was too busy leaning up and placing a searing kiss on Artemis’s lips to consider such things. His hands were no longer staying still by his side, but tangling themselves in his companion’s silky hair, reveling in the texture.  
  
Artemis’s hands were no longer shaky or holding down his shoulders but rather wound around his neck and back pulling him closer. He met the pull with pleasure, pressing as much as his body as he could against the assassin’s and drawing Artemis’s bottom lip into his mouth. It tasted of whisky mixed with what he could only described as the unique taste of Artemis as his lips grazed over the lip.  
  
  
He was rewarded with a gasp and fingernails digging painfully into the back of his neck. It only caused a slight flinch that normally would not have caused a problem for the pair. However, they were drunk and balanced oddly with Jarlaxle staining upward to meet Artemis’s downward leaning body. The unfortunate flinch, toppled this balance and sent them tumbling over the edge of the couch.  
  
They were a tangle of limbs on the red carpet and Jarlaxle could taste the blood from the assassin that was somehow half under and beside him. “We are too drunk.” He declared, in an almost whine as he reached to wipe Artemis’s bloody lip.  
  
“I think I’m sinking into the floor.” The assassin groaned in response, closing his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

Artemis was thrashing frantically, panicked and desperate to escape. He didn’t know how he got in this position, didn’t care that his frenzied movements were causing a shooting pain in his wrist and increased the throbbing in his head, he just knew he had to get _away_.   
  
The arm wrapped around him tightened, attempting to cut off his movement. He fought harder, a snarling kicking mess that was ignoring any words said.  
  
Appalling binds were knotted impossibly tight around his wrist, attaching him to the foot of a table and causing pain whenever he attempted to turn off his side. He ignored it though and continued his thrashing while straining to untie his binds.  
  
He has woken up unsure of where he was, with a swollen bloody lip, tied up, only in his undergarments, with an unknown body holding him from behind. It was beyond a bad situation. He had to get out.  
  
“ENTRERI!” The voice was thunderous and in his ear. It sent waves of pain through his head; that was not what ceased his movements though. He _knew_ the owner of the alarmed shout. He slowly looked down at the arms holding him and recognized the ebony skin and the many rings covering the fingers. _Jarlaxle._   
  
He didn’t know if it was better or worse that…whatever had happened to cause this situation…was with somebody he knew. Someone he trusted. His stomach sank and he felt ill. Worse. Definitely worse. More so because he could not remember.  
  
He knew he accidentally told the drow about his past, that they got drunk, had vague memory of getting on top of the elf to demonstrate something he knew was a trigger to his childhood memories, a kiss, and then falling…during the kiss? Then rests of his memories were nothing but hazy recollections. Sensations of sinking, fingers in his hair, warm hands rubbing his back, but nothing that could explain his current predicament.  
  
  
He knew his breathing was ragged and uneven. He could not stop and control it though. _What had happened?_   
  
“Artemis. Breath.” The voice in his was soft and soothing. Guilt surged through him. He shouldn’t be calmed by the voice. Not when---not when something he could not even remember happened. He began his thrashing again, and the arms were suddenly not around him.  
  
Instead, fingers were undoing the knots for him, and he was free.  
  
It took him less than a second to whirl around and have his hands clamped around Jarlaxle’s neck. The drow let out a chortled gasp, but managed to retaliate in less than a second by a fist aimed for his head. He dodged by leaning to the side, but losing his hold on Jarlaxle’s neck. It was enough for the drow to get away and halfway across the room.  
  
A distinct bristle of magical energy that had abruptly permeated the room was the only thing that stopped him from lunging across the room after him. The drow was twisting one of the rings on his hands and Artemis realized that some kind of protective ward had been activated.  
  
He glared. It was his first good look at Jarlaxle. He was missing his hat, eye patch, shirt, and one shoe, but was still had his pants one. He supposed that was good, but it still did not explain anything.  
  
His glare intensified in his frustration and Jarlaxle stared warily in return---as if he were some kind of wild beast. He then realized that he had been acting like one. He took a deep breath. He would exhibit control, even if that was the only thing he could control. Another breath and he forced his heart rate to slow and his mind to calm. “You want to explain why I woke up tied up, without most of my clothing and very little memory beyond drinking half a bottle of whisky last night?” His tone was harsh and he was still glaring, but he was now composed and in control.   
  
The drow’s expression took on one of relief. “You don’t remember?” An amused expression graced his face.  
  
Artemis snarled.   
  
“Calm down. It isn’t what you think.” Jarlaxle was laughing. “There is actually a very logical explanation to everything!”  
  
He did not know if that was a good or bad thing.


	11. Chapter 11

Artemis took a deep breath. He had to at least attempt to remain calm. “Well explain it. And stop laughing.”  
  
Jarlaxle halted his laughing, but the grin remained on his face. “Well, I’m assuming your memory is shot because you drank over half a bottle of whiskey—which honestly did not agree to well with your stomach. You almost ruined my carpet by vomiting---but I digress.” The drow made a flamboyant waved his hands, as if shooing the point away before continuing. “I, however, did give you an anti-nausea draught, but it appears you are one of the lucky few that it has the opposite effect on. In concern for your clothing, I made you remove most of it. So really, it is not that bad!”  
  
Artemis’s eyebrow twitched. “And why was I tied up?”   
  
“To make sure you stayed your side while you slept!” The drow stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I couldn’t have you accidently aspirating in your sleep.”  
  
It was all ridiculous. He had expected such an absurd explanation from Jarlaxle, but he had really hoped that he could have said something a little more tame...something he could believe and brush off. He shook his head. “Stop lying.”  
  
The drow’s grin faded an expression of hurt took over his face. “I’m not.”  
  
Artemis ignored Jarlaxle’s change of demeanor though. It was an act. A manipulation. “Do you even listen to yourself speak? On which plane of existence accepts such a bullshit explanation as perfectly logical? Just tell me the damn truth.”  
  
Jarlaxle took a step closer and Artemis narrowed his eyes, causing the drow to halt. “Artemis. It is the truth. In hindsight, tying you up mostly naked on the floor is not the best solution to drunken nausea—but in my defense I was drunk too.”  
  
It was the final straw. He had given Jarlaxle more than enough opportunity to tell the truth—or at the very least a believable lie. Now, he was _done._ All of this had been a terrible idea.Why did he even think he could trust Jarlaxle in the first place? The mercenary was always causing him trouble. If not whisking him away to the wretched underdark, the elf was dealing with dragons, or getting them banished by stealing a castle.   
  
Of course, if he shared something so _personal_ and revealed part of himself as vulnerable, Jarlaxle would take advantage. He was a fool for thinking otherwise.  
  
“Just give me my clothes back before I find a way through whatever magic ward you are using and kill you.”   
  
“Arte---“  
  
“Just give me my pants!” Artemis clenched is jaw and put a hard stare on his face. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t listen and let himself be manipulated.   
  
  
Jarlaxle sighed, before wordlessly pointing to the corner of the room where the pants were dangling from a fake and gaudy exotic tree.   
  
  
Finger nails bit into Artemis’s hands as they clenched into fists as he stalked over to the fake plant and snatched his pants away. “I’m sure there is a logical explanation for this too.” He snarled, not taking his seething glare off Jarlaxle as he yanked the pants on.  
  
  
“Well, whe---“   
  
Artemis’s glare intensified and his growl cut off any explanation the drow was going to give him. “Don’t bother. We are done.” He declared, heading over the safe and then staring at it, waiting for Jarlaxle to open it.  
  
Jarlaxle was just forcing a smile, in what was most likely in an attempt to control and adapt to the situation. “Okay. How about I open the safe later though…I mean deciding that we are done with what is your fantasy is prob---“  
  
Artemis cut off Jarlaxle again. “You misunderstand. We are not just done with trying my request. I am done with _you_. Now open the safe.”


	12. Chapter 12

Jarlaxle’s forced smile fell and he didn’t even attempt to keep a façade of control or composure. “Let’s not be too hasty. You can’t just leave.”  
  
Artemis’s eyes narrowed. “Open the safe and I will leave without killing you. You make me have to open it and I will kill you before I leave. Either way, I am leaving.”  
  
Jarlaxle was at a loss of words. He couldn’t think of what to say to fix this. He was aware that his jaw was hanging slightly open as he was searching for something to say. “I—but—no.” He shook his head. “You can’t!”  
  
“I can’t?” Artemis’s tone became more bitter than angry. “Are you going to magically hold me here? Because you can’t deal with the consequences of your lies and manipulations. Are you going to keep me and actually rape me?”  
  
  
Jarlaxle took a step back and allowed a wounded expression take over his face. That couldn’t be what Artemis really thought. Could it? He took in a breath and decided that no it couldn’t. Artemis had just been put in an uncomfortable situation that was way out of his comfort zone and is now just reacting in the only way he knew how—lashing out. If he was careful, he could deal with and fix it; at least enough to get the assassin to stay.  
  
“Lies and manipulations?” He echoed, before shaking his head. He knew he couldn’t deny the charge, but if he wanted Artemis to stay he had to influence him into forgiving him for being manipulative. Unfortunately this involved more manipulation, however he refused to feel guilty for it. “Was I supposed to tell you that while we drunkenly made out, I took advantage of drunker than me you and that I—in moment of bad judgment—convinced you to start trying things on your list? And then tell you the only reason we both still had some clothes on is because I decided to drink more and ended up passing out?” He took another step back, “What was I supposed to say other than a lie with a jumble of mistakes like that?”  
  
Artemis was now leaning against the wall, looking down and clutching his head in what looked like subdued frustration. “You say the truth, instead of an unbelievable lie. I’m more offend by the lie and not knowing exactly what had happened than the fact that I drunkenly made out with you and that I went along with a reckless idea when doing so.”  
  
  
“So now that you know the truth—“ Jarlaxle’s voice took on a hopeful tone.  
  
Artemis’s head snapped up. “We still aren’t okay.” He sighed. “Though I guess, I don’t have to leave.”  
  
Jarlaxle smiled. “Is this sleeping in separate beds across the room or 2 feet apart not okay?”  
  
“We are sleeping in separate rooms not okay.” Artemis shook his head. “My request is also off the table, so don’t even bother asking about it.”  
  
Jarlaxle had not even had been contemplating the thought of convincing Artemis to entertain his own fantasy again. Currently, he was just considering on how to regain his trust enough on how to get him back into his bed again…and to make sure that he never finds out that what the assassin thought was a lie was actually the truth and what he thinks as the truth a clever believable lie. Still, he put a genuine smile on his face. “Of course. Now how about some breakfast?”  
  
Artemis sigh and nodded. “I’m going to go find my shirt. Just promise you won’t try to get the toast to toast faster by using magical fire again.”  
  
Jarlaxle laughed. It seemed that getting his Artemis back into his bed is really just being on good behavior and waiting. He could do it. “No magic.” He promised before spotting the Artemis’s list still sitting on the table that Artemis had been tied to this morning. Unable to resist the opportunity, he picked up the piece of paper and held it out to Artemis. “Now your fantasy is off the table.”   
  
He only got an eye roll in response as Artemis snatched the list and shoved it into his pocket, but that eye roll was more than the glare that Jarlaxle had been expecting.


	13. Chapter 13

It had been five days since their fight. A very tense and awkward five days. Artemis, true to his word, had insisted in a separate room on the other end of the house and had otherwise been ignoring Jarlaxle—whom, surprisingly, was doing very well at giving him his needed space and not bringing up anything terribly uncomfortable.  
  
Because of all this tension and distance, it made it all the more strange that Artemis found himself standing outside of Jarlaxle’s bedroom door with his fist clenched tight in an attempt to keep up the resolve he had been building up for the last two days. Forcing a feeling of false confidence, he cracked open the door and slinked into the room.  
  
“You aren’t here to stab me in my sleep with a kitchen knife, are you?” Jarlaxle’s tone was light and while he glanced at Artemis, he did not move from his spot laying on his lavish pile of blankets.  
  
The joke was enough to break enough of his tension and forced him to leave his looming position in the doorway and approach the bed. “Well, seeing that you are awake, I will have to settle with stabbing you when you are awake.”   
  
“What a travesty! That will simply not do! Wait a moment and I will fall asleep, so your plan will go on unhindered.” Jarlaxle was now sitting up with a grin and Artemis could not help rolling his eyes.   
  
“That won’t be necessary.” Artemis was finally completely at the bedside and was staring down at the drow. “I’m just here to give you this.” Before he could hesitate, he unclenched his fist and dropped a folded piece of paper that had obviously been crumpled and uncrumpled many times on the blankets next to Jarlaxle.  
  
“An old piece paper? Artemis, you shouldn’t have.” Jarlaxle scoffed, barely giving it a second glance.  
  
He took a step back and reigned in hurt and anger that were threatening to well up inside. “A dot next to it means it happened to me, a dash means that I have tried it and it did not go well, and an x means I have tried it with…mixed results.” His tone was much more uncomfortable then he anticipated, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact and stare piercingly at the drow.   
  
“Wait, this is your list?” Jarlaxle’s demeanor instantaneously changed and his hand were smoothing out the paper before setting it gently on the bedside table and getting to his feet.“Is this not off anymore?” A face that conveyed what could only genuine curiosity before it scrunched into confusion. “What changed your mind?”  
  
He took a breath and stayed rooted to the ground, letting Jarlaxle approach. “If you still want to, I’m okay with trying again. Just no more interrogations.”  
  
Jarlaxle was grinning and wrapping arms around him. “I would love to try again, but seriously what changed your mind? I haven’t even attempted to bring it up once.”  
  
“The fact that you weren’t trying to change my mind. Now stop with the hugging before I really get a knife and stab you.” Despite his harsh tone and verbal resistance, Artemis did find himself lightly returning the embrace—though nowhere near enthusiastically as Jarlaxle was squeezing him.  
  
Jarlaxle snorted, but let go. “Stay the night here, rather than retreating across the house?”  
  
He sighed, he really should have seen this question coming. “I don’t want to watch you read that…also I am still mad at you.”  
  
“Then I won’t read it until morning, and be mad at me from in my bed.”  
  
He shook his head and flopped down into the bed “Fine, but it is only so I can be sure you aren’t up to anything.”   
  
Jarlaxle collapsed next to him, before smiling and sing-song-edly suggesting. “You know you can keep a better eye on me by holding me?”   
  
He rolled his eyes, but did not protest as he wrapped his arms around Jarlaxle and drifted asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Artemis was awakened by the feeling of fingers entangled in his hair; gently running through and twisting the locks. Normally, he did not mind when Jarlaxle chose to wake him up this way, but a heavy feeling of tiredness still permeated him; and he _knew_ he had not gotten nearly enough sleep and Jarlaxle was just waking him up way too damn early. He didn’t open his eyes and attempted to blindly swat the offending hand away.  
  
There was a slight chuckle. “I didn’t mean to wake you yet. You can go back to sleep.” Jarlaxle’s voice was a soft whisper---and generally it would be enough reassurance for him to fall back asleep (the elf shifting and moving after reverie and briefly waking him was more than a common occurrence), however the drow’s fingers were still entangled and running slowly through his hair.  
  
Artemis attempted to whack the offending hand away again and let out an intelligible growl, hoping to get the point across. He did not. Finally, he opened his eyes and glared at his partner. “Hands. Hair. Stop.”  
  
“Fine.” Jarlaxle’s voice held a tone of mock annoyance as the fingers left Artemis’s hair and the elf flopped his hand down, crinkling a piece of paper in the process.  
  
Artemis’s eyes warily looked down to identify the paper and took in a sharp breath when he saw his modified list. His eyes shot up to Jarlaxle and he tried to gauge by expression if the mercenary had already read it. His face was impassive and a fake cheery smile wasn’t even offered.  
  
He had read it. Jarlaxle _knew_. Artemis waited for the inevitable panic to well up. For the anxiety related to unearthing his past and sharing part of it to attempt to overwhelm him. But other than that initial sharp breath he had made, he was calm. Jarlaxle now some _details_ about what had been done to him…and what he still desired despite that. And he was calm.  
  
“You have 30 seconds to freak out on me.” Jarlaxle’s voice airy and teasing voice tore Artemis from his thoughts.  
  
“You have read it all?” He still wasn’t panicking, but official clarification from his lover would be nice.  
  
“I have. You seem rather calm about this though.” There was a slight hint of surprise in Jarlaxle’s tone that indicated that the drow was just as surprised as he was by the sense of calm that is currently encompassing him.  
  
“I am calm.” Not that he was going to complain about that. “You aren’t going to ask me a million questions?”  
  
He got a laugh in response. “Artemis, you have already shown me asking you a million questions doesn’t work.” Jarlaxle shook his head and scooted closer to him and—once again—began running nimble fingers through his hair. A slow smile spread across the elf’s face as Artemis decided he would allow the gentle petting. “I have a plan now anyways.”  
  
Artemis jerked his head back. “A plan?” He repeated a bit sharply. He knew all too well that Jarlaxle’s plans could quickly get out of hand. “Now I am beginning to panic.” It was only half a joke.  
  
“Oh hush. It really isn’t that crazy of a plan!”  
  
“Explain. Now.” He was not about to let Jarlaxle begin putting together an elaborate plot. Not with _this_.  
  
“So you remember that one barmaid in Waterde—“  
  
He cut off Jarlaxle. “The condensed version.”  
  
  
Jarlaxle rolled his eyes. “Anyways the barmaid gave me some sort of odd dish that was simply scrumptious. I believe they were jumping water lizard legs.”   
  
Artemis sighed. “They are called frog legs. Where are you going with this?”  
  
“Well, to cook the jumping wat—“  
  
“Frogs .They are called frogs. And if you mention boiling water and how the frogs jump out, so you have to slowly heat them up—and this is some messed up metaphor where I am the frog you are attempting to boil, I am going to punch you.”  
  
Jarlaxle let out a half-hearted laugh. “So we are on the same page!”   
  
“I hate you.” His words were empty, but he didn’t know what else to say.


	15. Chapter 15

  
Artemis had been sitting on the couch, eyes closed in attempt to catch up on lost sleep when Jarlaxle straddled him—legs squeezing his sides while arms wrapped themselves around his neck. Soft lips were claimed his, before he even had the chance to open his eyes.  
  
Instead of the usual searing kiss with sharp nibbling and use of a dexterous tongue used besides roaming hands, he was just being hugged as the lips barely remained on his; more of a gossamer sensation than anything.  
  
So, it took no effort to break the kiss and lean his head back. “I’m not a piece of fine china.” Artemis stated, shaking his head. He didn’t know if it was the result of Jarlaxle’s insistence on following his stupid metaphor or if the mischievous elf had something potentially upsetting planned. It was probably a combination of both, but nevertheless he found the extreme tenderness more off-putting than if the elf had just stuck purely to their normal routine.   
  
Jarlaxle simply smiled in return and wordlessly brought him back into a kiss. The elf was still being gentle, but at least now he was delicately grazing his teeth along his lips. Artemis returned the kiss with fervor, attempting to deepen it; parting his lips at each graze of teeth—an invitation that the elf’s tongue was exasperatingly ignoring. With frustration he finally decided to suck the dark bottom lip into his mouth and blithely tease it before harshly biting down.  
  
Jarlaxle jolted before he reached his fingers into Artemis’s hair and yanking his head back, breaking the kiss. An involuntary shiver ran down his spine as his head was wrenched back, but the excitement diminished when Jarlaxle didn’t act further and instead just stared at him with a drop of blood leisurely gliding down his black lip and chin.  
  
Artemis glared. It had been at least a month—and while he has been admittedly difficult, avoidant and high-strung lately due to his request; it didn’t stop him from being annoyed at the light-handed way the mercenary was treating him. “What are you up to?” Because if anything, Jarlaxle should be more desperate then him   
  
“Well, I _was_ kissing you before you so viscously attacked me.” Jarlaxle shook his bald head and narrowed his eyes. “Now I’m not sure that I should continue!” A theatrical sigh. “Kissing you is hazard when you are so snappy.” The hand that wasn’t clenching his hair brought itself to the mercenary’s lip, making a point to touch the scant amount of blood there.  
  
“You got to be joking!” He growled. While he assumed this was just a bit of Jarlaxle’s normal flare for the dramatic, there was a small chance the drow is being serious to be spiteful.  
  
With a grin and a laugh, Jarlaxle whispered “Obviously,” into his ear; warm breath tickling the nape of his neck. Lips were _almost_ on his again. “Just no more biting.” He could feel the words on his lips and taste their breath, but when he attempted to lean forward to seal the kiss the hand that hold of his hair simply held him in place—refusing to let him close the gap.  
  
“I won’t need to bite if you just do something!”   
  
Jarlaxle snorted and with a shake of his head closed the gap and ground down his hips down on the assassin’s. Artemis shuddered and gasped against the elf’s lips and _finally_ the drow’s tongue was in his mouth.  
  
His arms wrapped themselves around Jarlaxle’s body and dug his nails into the mercenary’s vest as the hips ground down again while their tongues slid provocatively across each other. With a fervored gasp he thrust up against the elf.  
  
Jarlaxle made a strange mewl into his mouth. Before Artemis knew what was happening, he was flat on his back, being held down by the weight of the elf that was pressing his whole body on top of him.


	16. Chapter 16

He arched his back as he wrapped his legs around the drow’s waist, purposefully pressing up against him as he did so. He could feel Jarlaxle smile into his lips before the elf withdrew his tongue and bit down on his lip—stifling the moan he was making as the dark hands were digging into his hips and manipulating them _just_ so; creating the perfect amount of friction between them.  
  
Then the lips were off his and pressing a trail up his jawline and towards his ear. Artemis could only tilt his head back and allow the assault of kisses and the occasional flick of the tongue dance across his face and take in heated breaths whenever teeth brush across his skin—working in harmony with the slow grinding between their hips.  
  
But then it all stopped _right_ before the soft spot on the neck hiding right behind his ear lobe that both he and Jarlaxle knew drove him crazy. He let out an annoyed growl. Of course, Jarlaxle was going to taunt him.  
  
A chuckle in his ear and Artemis brought his hands to the drow’s head, trying to pull it closer to the spot, wishing not for the first time that the mercenary had hair.  
  
Instead of doing what he wanted, Jarlaxle just left out an airy breath, purposefully blowing on the spot. He shivered and held back a whine and began digging his fingers into the elf’s skull looking for some type of purchase to force the damn mercenary where he wanted him.  
  
It didn’t work and instead Jarlaxle pulled farther away, jerking his head back and breaking what little grip he had on the bald head. Red eyes narrowed and the dark elf looked like the epitome of annoyance.  
  
He returned the look; more than frustrated at Jarlaxle.   
  
Neither broke the other’s gaze. Even as Jarlaxle brought his face up to his until their noses were touching. It was a long moment of silence before Jarlaxle decided to speak. “Hands above your head. Palms up with your wrists crossed.”  
  
He raised a brow, but made no move to do what he was told.   
  
Jarlaxle made an irritated sound, however he didn’t say anything further. Instead, he again brought dark lips to Artemis’s face and neck.  
  
Thinking the action meant a form of forgiveness, Artemis again tilted his head back and arched his body; allowing the kisses and the drow’s hands to roam and pick at the buttons on his shirt. His own finger’s trembling as he began tugging at the fastens on Jarlaxle’s vest.  
  
Right when he was at the final fasten, Jarlaxle again brought his lips right to the edge of the spot. Instead of stopping this time though, he instead skirted around it—getting just close enough to where his breaths were becoming heavy pants of anticipation, but not close enough to actually cause his eyes to roll back into his head and make his body involuntarily shudder in pleasure.  
  
“Jarlaxle!” He attempted to growl, having enough of the drow’s teasing torment. But instead of the annoyance he was trying to convey, his voice betrayed the desperation he was trying to hide in an airy gasp.   
  
“You want me to continue, you better put your hands over your head like I told you.”  
  
He would have punched the elf in exasperation, but as the elf spoke the words warm breath tickled the spot. So without a grumble, his hands left Jarlaxle’s vest and went to the instructed position.  
  
He was awarded by a dark hand wrapping itself around his wrists, pinning him to the couch and leaving him exposed as Jarlaxle loomed over him, wicked grin on his face. But before the panic could set in and he could even begin to struggle, the crafty mercenary had his lips right on the spot bringing it into his teeth right as he harshly ground down with his hips.  
  
He didn’t have time to panic with the eye rolling, head thrown back, shuddering arching body, and noisy moan creating white hot pleasure he was receiving.


	17. Chapter 17

The sharp drow teeth continued to tease the spot and Artemis felt his muscles give in as he became putty at Jarlaxle’s ministrations. His breathing consisted of hitched breaths which melded into throaty moans as the mercenary’s free hand parted his shirt and ran down the expanse of his chest.  
  
Fingers glazed down his side, before they traced the edge of his hip to then dance along the hem of his pants. Almost daring to reach under the fabric. _Almost_. Instead, the fingers skirted around the damned fabric before running back up his chest, pointed nails tracing every single contour.   
  
All while the piercing teeth and tongue continued to dance over his spot.   
  
It was all too much, and while he knew he should be offering at least some resistance to Jarlaxle’s hold on his wrists—the hold that was leaving him exposed and helpless to the mercenary’s whims—Artemis couldn’t bring himself to struggle in the slightest. No struggling when everything felt so _good_.   
  
No matter how much the mercenary teased him. Teased him by teeth leaving his spot to instead nibble on his ear lobe, as the fingers continued their exploration, tracing his collar bone before journeying to his jaw and tangling themselves into his goatee.  
  
  
He should have known that the elf could not have resisted the urge to tug at and play with his facial hair—one of Jarlaxle’s sexual fascinations that he barely tolerated. How could the mercenary resist with the way he was being held down and left to his mercy?  
  
Any noise of pleasure he may have been making died in his throat. Suddenly, he found himself not so distracted from the fact that Jarlaxle was holding him down. He was letting himself get held down…and he _was_ enjoying it. The instinct to struggle washed over him, and he attempted to wrench his wrists out of the drow’s one handed grasp.  
  
Instead of the resistance he had expected, his wrists were simply let free. Calming words replaced the teeth that tormented his ear. The fingers were no longer entwined in his goatee. In fact, Jarlaxle’s hands weren’t even on him anymore, despite the fact that the elf was still on top of him.  
  
Abruptly aware that whatever panic had briefly overtaken him passed and that he most certainly killed the mood with his panic, Artemis found himself staring at the concerned mercenary and then back at his own freed hands. He took in a shaky breath. He had let Jarlaxle maneuver him into an exposed position. Hold him down. Hold him down like in his dreams…hold him down like how _they—_ used to.   
  
  
Those thought, those memories, were quickly pushed into the back of his mind. He wouldn’t think about them…the elf hadn’t held him down like them. Jarlaxle held him down like his fantasies. Like how the list--his list--requested. Like how he wanted…and he _liked_ it. He liked it.   
  
“Artemis?”  
  
He tore his gaze from his hand and thoughts away from any implications that his mind was beginning to conclude. Jarlaxle was still straddling him; preventing him from sitting up. While certain the drow would move off him at the slightest hint, Artemis realized he didn’t want the elf to move. He wanted the elf to continue what they had started. So it was from flat on his back that he laughed, “I don’t suppose I can insist that I’m fine and convince you to keep going?”  
  
His remark was returned with a tilted head and a contemplating look that shortly replaced by an absolutely wicked grin. “Hands back above your head.” He gazed up at Jarlaxle in dumb shock, but before he could open his mouth the elf was speaking again. “Convince me that you’re fine and just put your hands back over your head.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo, this part has been written for like a year and I never realized I hadn't posted it here--so umm now it's here. I'm not sure if I am ever going to actually finish this piece, but the next part has like 400 word currently written--so that will probably appear soonish...maybe?

He swallowed. Part of him wanted to punch the presumptuous elf. Another wanted to put his hands back over his head and enjoy himself—because he had liked it. A small part of him was screaming for him not to because they had held him down; knowing that it was wrong for him to want it. To like it. It was a part of himself that he cannot silence and what was stopping him from moving trembling hands back over his head.

He met Jarlaxle’s concerned gaze head on. The wicked and sinful grin had faded while his hands had begun their wretched shaking, transformed into a worried smile. A doting hand came towards his face to brush aside a stray hair, as black lips opened to most likely say some reassuring words. He didn’t want reassuring. He wanted to have sex. Dark and twisted and so-very-wrong sex.

Without thinking further than to stop the reassurances from beginning, he blurted “Tie me up.’

Jarlaxle withdrew his hand and rose a brow. “Artemis, you just panicked from me holding your wrists down with my hands. You can’t honestly expect me to tie you up?”

He didn’t. Not at all. But it did have the desired effect of halting any coddling that the drow had been about to impose on him. It also had the benefit of stopping his trembling hands because the thought of the drow with colorful silken ties—he could not even imagine the eccentric mercenary stooping to use normal ties—binding his hands a headboard in elegant knots was more than enough to let the part of him that wanted all of this overpower the conflicted parts that were horrified.

It was even enough to pointedly bring his hands back above his head. “Then can I at least expect you to try this again?” He forced his tone to be even and unperturbed; a tone that could convince Jarlaxle that he was fine.

It worked. The sinful grin was back on the drow’s face and less from an inch from his own. “Perhaps.” It was the barest whisper and most defiantly meant yes.

He tilted his head up and closed the space between them. The kiss was returned gently for only a second before Jarlaxle pulled away. A snarl escaped him. What was Jarlaxle playing at it?

“Those hands above your head—I’m not going to hold them down this time. You are going to keep them on your own accord.” Both of the mercenary’s hands pushed down on his shoulders, pressing him into the couch. Intense red eyes bored down on him, juxtaposing the drow’s surprisingly gentle tone “You move them away….” The words trailed off, but the point was punctuated by nails digging into his shoulders.

However, instead of bristling at the implied threat, he found himself arching up towards the elf; the perverse part of him that found all of this alluring dominating his normal instincts that would resent and lash out at such a threat. “Hands leave them. Got it. Now ca—“

He didn’t get to finish his thought, let alone his thoughts before drow lips roughly silenced him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here's the next part; I don't really like it that much...but it's something, I guess. No idea when the next part is coming--I'm going to be working basically 80 hours over the next 7 days, so I'm gonna be real busy. Any comments or messages are appreciated.

Sharp teeth sunk into his lip as Jarlaxle roughly kissed him with all he had. The strong taste of iron coated his tongue as his lips involuntarily parted, letting Jarlaxle invade his mouth while the nails of two dark hands bit into him as they drug down his exposed sides.

Surely, they will leave a set of ugly red streaks, but Artemis found himself unable truly care at the moment; not when the hands had found themselves at the edge of his too-tight pants, with slender fingers hooked under his waistband. He gasped against Jarlaxle’s mouth.

Finally.

It took most of his will power to leave his arms above his head, wanting nothing more than to hasten the removal of his pants; but instead tensing the muscles within them while rolling his hips in an obscene shimmy in an attempt what he hope to help---the damn elf that was not even moving his accursed hands!

No, instead the tease was pulling away from their kiss with a ridiculous pop, leaving a strand of saliva connecting their blood tinged lips. Artemis’s hands above his head clench into fists as he glared at red eyes that stared down at him assiduously, clearly searching his face for something.

He had more than half a mind to punch the drow---even if the strike would be woefully ineffective from his current position. Instead he opted to growl “Jarlaxle!”

Instead of a proper response the mercenary wantonly licked the blood and saliva from his lips before flashing white teeth and giving him the smile--the mischievous smile that reserved for when the elf had something particularly troublesome planned.

Artemis felt heart involuntarily begin to hammer in his chest and he clenched his jaw, resisting urge to gulp. “Jarlaxle,” He repeated, considerably softer; hating that a simple look was reducing him to a bundle of horny nerves and that even though he probably shouldn’t, he was looking forward to his partner had planned.

Jarlaxle hummed in return and quickly darted down to place a sloppy grinning kiss on his lips. It lasted barely a second before the elf was pulling away with the words “Move your arms and I use my teeth,” on his breath.

Artemis’s tongue darted across his lip where Jarlaxle had already ‘used his teeth,’ and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, “And what if I like your teeth?”

A throaty chuckle pervaded the air before Jarlaxle gave him an amused smile. Leaning into Artemis’s ear the elf whispered, “I doubt that you are going to.”

Before Artemis could come up with a response or figure out his partner’s reasoning, Jarlaxle was slowly sliding down his body with a maniacal grin on his face. Artemis felt his face blanching as comprehension soaked in, but before he could begin to kick the drow off, his pants were already around his knees.


End file.
